


The threat of love

by Ariana (Ariana_El)



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Family, Feanor as a father, Gen, Maglor taking care of the twins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-10-29 22:02:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20803688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ariana_El/pseuds/Ariana
Summary: Maedhros watches Maglor taking care of Elrond and Elros an recalls his own father.Written for Innumerable Stars 2019.





	The threat of love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aisla_elfvictory](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aisla_elfvictory/gifts).

> The prompt I got is rather long, so I won't quote it all here, but Aisla_elfvictory asked for Feanor as a father. Among many suggestions there was also a question about Feanor as a father affecting Maglor and Maedhros raising the twins. Maedhros wished to brood on that and so I let him.
> 
> Many thanks to Bunn for beta-reading.

Amon Ereb was never meant for children. A stronghold for war times was not supposed to ring with hastened footsteps of tiny legs and high-pitched voices of elflings demanding attention. It wasn’t _right._ This was their last refuge against the evil that was slowly flooding the northern lands, not a playground.

Yet here the great hall used for meals and gatherings echoed with the nursery rhymes that Maglor sang in his golden voice. Maedhros found himself following the sounds until he entered the hall and saw the singer. His brother rarely sang these days and sometimes Maedhros thought that was for the best; they needed to keep up morale among their people. Maglor was usually more likely to play dirges and sing laments.

Maedhros saw his brother sitting by one of the long tables, his silver harp in his lap. He was not playing it, only singing, but Elros and Elrond didn’t seem to mind. They sat, enchanted, oblivious to the world around them, listening.

Should he be envious? The thought was so absurd that Maedhros snorted and shook his head. Having so many siblings, he was used to sharing. However, one of the first memories he had of Maglor was connected with the feeling of jealousy. It wasn’t the first one, of course, but for some reason the image stayed strong and clear, even if the feeling had long since vanished. A long, long time ago, in different land and under the light of the two Trees.

***

“Amme, Amme,” Maitimo tugged at Nerdanel’s sleeve. “Can I go now?” he urged his mother, who was now cleaning her tools. It was her first time in the study since she had given birth and Maitimo had promised Fëanáro to accompany her. He had played with small stone pieces and built high walls while she worked, then dutifully helped her sweep the dust from the floor. Now, however, was the time to see what his father was doing.

“Of course,” Nerdanel nodded distractedly. “Have fun.”

Maitimo grinned and ran from his mother’s workshop and down the corridor, a small piece of marble he had snatched still clutched in his little fist. He had a use for that pebble, but that could wait.

He found Fëanáro in his study, just as he expected, only...

“Why is he here?” he demanded. It was his time with Atto, and Atto always showed him interesting things and explained how they worked. It was supposed to be fun.

How could it be fun if there was an infant in Fëanáro’s arms, sleeping and oblivious to the marvels their father could create? Fëanáro kept Makalaure in an upright position with his right arm, the tiny body safely placed between his elbow and his wrist, while he was sketching something with his free hand.

“Kano will be joining us today,” he replied a little absent-mindedly and reached for a rubber to correct something.

"But that's my place!" Maitimo pouted, his lip already trembling. "And I can't see what you're doing."

Fëanáro's expression changed at once. He shifted tiny Makalaure a bit and offered his older son his free hand. "Come here, Nelyo." The warmth in his voice melted some of the scowl.

Seeing a bit of space, Maitimo climbed his father's knees at once, still a bit unsure what to think of his brother’s presence. He looked at Kano’s tiny hand probably tickling Atto’s neck, then at the stroll of saliva running down his chin.

“He’s drooling,” he pointed out matter-of-factly and made a face.

“So he is,” Fëanáro chuckled and reached for a cloth to dry the tiny mouth of the infant on his shoulder. “You did that too,” he smiled at Maitimo, who only pouted in return.

“I did not!”

“You don’t, now, because you’re a big boy. And look, Kano was crying,” explained Fëanáro, putting the cloth away and wrapping his free arm around Maitimo. “When you cry, you want us to pick you and hug you, don’t you?”

The boy nodded. It was always good to hide in Amil’s or Atto’s arms whenever he was hurt or upset. They were both strong and safe and they could shield him from everything. And he knew that while Makalaure could be funny when he laid in his crib and babbled nonsense, he was also VERY vocal once he started screaming. No wonder Atto had done everything he could to keep him quiet.

“Makalaure was upset because Amme wasn’t around,” Fëanáro continued patiently. “He couldn’t understand why, so he cried until I picked him.”

Maitimo nodded again. He too didn’t like it when Nerdanel was away.

Fëanáro smiled at him and added. “But now Kano is sleeping and I think he will be fine on his own. Do you think you can bring the crib over here?”

“Of course!”

Maitimo jumped off his father’s knees and ran to the crib standing by the doors. It was light and had small wheels which allowed to move it around the house. With Nerdanel wishing to finish her sculpture and Fëanáro working whenever an idea struck him, it had already proven to be very convenient.

“Good,” Fëanáro smiled encouragingly and rose from the chair. “Now we can put Kano here and have him close, and I can show you what I’ve been doing.” He placed the infant into the crib and tugged a blanket around him, then returned to the table.

Maitimo smiled broadly in response and curled in his usual place in Fëanáro’s lap.

***

Feanor had had many sons, yet he had never let any of them feel left out. There had always been enough space for all of them - to talk, to work, to discover.

Maedhros wondered later if this resulted from his father’s own experience in his childhood. He knew that Fëanaro had loved his father in a fierce, possessive way, and while Finwe had returned that feeling, this had never seemed enough. Could it have been that despite the whole conflict, especially with Fingolfin, his father had been able to see the source of the problem and had tried not to repeat Finwe’s mistake? If so, he had succeeded. His seven sons would squabble and annoy each other at times, would often argue as fiercely as their father, but not once had it turned into open spite and hatred. They were all united and loyal to the point that had proved to be their doom.

Maedhros shook his head, surprised by the memories the sight of the twins had brought. He had not thought of his father this warmly in a very, very long time; he tried not to think of him at all. It always left him with this overwhelming feeling of helplessness and reminded him of the despair Feanor’s actions had brought upon them.

A gentle prod of a thought made him jerk. Maedhros felt the presence of his brother’s mind and his eyes widened in surprise. He wasn’t aware the memories had caused his usual walls to sink down and leave his mind open, at least to his only kin.

“Why don’t you join us, Maedhros?” Maglor asked and a smile, a real, warm smile that Maedhros rarely saw these days, brightened his features.

The boys looked wary, though. Around Maedhros, they still behaved as if they thought he would harm them. He did not desire their presence here, that much was the truth, but... to see the smile Maglor had just given him, to open his mind for his calming presence, if only for a brief moment; that alone was worth the two children living under their roof. Still, he didn’t really wish to interfere.

“No, thank you, Kano,” he replied softly in Quenya and the brief connection he had with Maglor’s mind was shut once again. Maedhros walked past the table towards his usual seat. At this hour of day the hall was almost empty, with but a few guards getting some food after a shift. In a few hours it would fill up again, as it did every day, with elves gathering for an evening meal.

Elrond followed him with his gaze, but then Elros poked him and the boy looked away. Maedhros knew that both of them could understand Quenya to some degree, so there was no point in carrying out a conversation in that language hoping to keep anything away from them. The twins were still a puzzle, their moods changing sometimes rapidly for no apparent reason, but they also tended to follow Maglor, which often made it impossible to talk in private.

Maedhros had no urgent matter to discuss with Maglor, so he just settled and listened as his brother picked another song from their childhood. A shadow of smile appeared on his lips. At first the boys had feared them both openly, but as time passed and nothing befell them, they were getting more courageous. They would stay close to Maglor, though mistrust was usually plain in their eyes, and they would wait. They instinctively understood Music better than Maedhros himself. They spoke very little and never willingly, but one day one of them had uttered a quiet request for a song and Maglor was more than willing to comply. Since then, they were visibly growing fond and Maglor’s voice attracted them both like crystal lanterns would call moths. Even at the very beginning, when the twins had been terrified of everything happening around them, they would calm at Maglor’s voice and fall into dreamless sleep. Maedhros loved that ability of his brother; in Middle-earth more than ever before.

It wasn’t uncommon within their family to wield the power of voice, but Maedhros had never mastered the skill himself to match his father. Oh, he could bind his younger brothers to his will, he could keep them at bay. Until recently, those loyal to him would have followed his every command. He could be imposing and inspiring, he knew that, and he could play his cards well to obtain what he desired, if only it was possible at all.

But... oh, the one time it had really mattered, he had failed. He had argued with Feanor on the shores of Losgar, but it had been his voice against his father’s and there he could not compete. He had stood aside alone while his father had ordered to burn the ships and not one of his brothers had followed him. If only...

It was not a trail of thoughts Maedhros wished to follow, so he focused on Maglor's song. The tune was merry and brought to the listeners the images of blossoming meadows and birds chirping in the sun. Maedhros would have smiled at his brother's showing off, if not for one detail that made his heart ache. It was one of the Ambarussa's favourite songs.

The twins did not know that and they sat mesmerised, lost in the images of the song. Maedhros knew Maglor could easily enchant them if he wished. They were already intrigued by him and eager for his attention despite trying to keep pretence of staying away. It was only a matter of time.

But how was this going to end?

They were not always easy to love, the House of Finwe had a track of far too many incidents of misinterpreted love. But once they did love or were loved, there was no stopping. Out of love they had followed Feanor in swearing the Oath and into the Everlasting Darkness; the same love that had pushed their father from grief into madness. Brilliant, dashing and inspiring, each in his own way, they could draw people to themselves. And doomed as they were, they could only drag down those who loved them. Maedhros had learned that the hard way.

"What ails you, brother?"

Maedhros looked up. Maglor was standing above him and in his eyes he could see the same heaviness that burdened his heart. He glanced around and saw they were alone. Gone were the children, and with them, all the joy he had seen and heard in Maglor's voice.

Gone they will all be, soon. This was only the matter of time. The Darkness awaited them, and there, their father and brothers. What had begun in love and out of love, turned into despair and destruction. But what about those children? Were they meant to share their fate as well? It seemed more cruel than slaying them in the first place.

Maedhros sighed. "I fear their love, Kano."

Maglor seemed taken aback. He sank down at the nearest chair, waiting for an explanation.

"They should not love you,” the unspoken ‘us’ hung in the air. Maedhros hated the hurt Maglor could not hide completely at his words. ”For their own sake."

“We took everything away from them,” Maglor replied, his voice thick with remorse. “This is the least I can offer in return. I don’t think they will go as far as to grow feelings towards us.”

“Don’t underestimate yourself, brother,” Maedhros warned him, but then smiled in an attempt to wash away the harshness. “It would be cruel to keep them in misery,” he admitted gently. “Let us hope this won’t end like it always has so far.”


End file.
